At the Schermerhorn
Guerrero conducts the NFM Wrocław Philharmonic
Nashville’s music community is privileged to enjoy a resident symphony orchestra that routinely programs commissions, new voices, and 20th century masterworks. But, the new music fans among us were awarded an extra treat this past Tuesday when the Schermerhorn Symphony center presented the NFM Wrocław Philharmonic under the baton of Maestro Giancarlo Guerrero. The ensemble is in the midst of a North American tour, and our Nashville audience enjoyed a program of 20th century music celebrating works by Szymanowski, Bartók, and Lutosławski.
The evening began with Karol Szymanowski’s first orchestral work – Concert Overture Op. 12 (1905). The piece exhibits the influence of Strauss’s early tone poems with its use of rapid shifts and extremes of contrast, and Szymanowski’s strong melodic contours and orchestration make the most out of the dramatic landscape. Maestro Guerrero and the soaring string section wasted no time in bringing the ebullient and celebratory character of the opening passage to the fore. As the opening fireworks gave way to the more romantically charged lyrical second theme, Guerrero allowed the phrasing to slowly build in intensity and the ensemble’s expressive range was put to full effect. Guerrero’s explosive treatment of the final return of the opening flourish (heralded by an intense rising passage in the horns) allowed the audience to rush headlong toward a satisfying ending.
Szymanowski’s overture was followed by Bartók’s Piano Concerto No. 3 featuring soloist Piotr Anderszewski. Incidentally, the third piano concerto was the last work that Bartók completed – just days before his death in September of 1945. Following Szymanowski’s first orchestral work with Bartók’s last delighted my inner music nerd, and Anderszewski’s performance was nothing less than exquisite. The third piano concerto is recognized as somewhat of a departure from the modernist style for which Bartók had been previously known. Inspired by Hungarian folk music, the first movement alternates between bright if not puckish exchanges between the piano and woodwinds and longer flowing lines allowing the soloist a chance to expand and comment upon the initial material. Anderszewski’s articulation and technique were impressive, and each phrase carried a sense of intentional craftsmanship. Bartók’s driving third movement gave both the ensemble and Anderszewski a chance to dazzle listeners with a deft realization of the rhythmic theme and a display of effortless facility at the keyboard. Anderszewski’s lightness and phrasing in the fugato passages was captivating, but the delicacy and vulnerability of the second movement was the real highlight for me. Framed by crystalline strings, Anderszewski’s chorale phrasing was immaculate. Guerrero created a space for these delicate statements to linger, and the audience was reminded
once again that some of the most powerful moments in music are created by the smallest and softest gestures.
Lutosławski concluded the program for the evening, and any accounting of Tuesday’s concert that fails to mention the sincerity and passion of both the interpretation and performance of the Concerto for Orchestra would be sorely lacking. Lutosławski’s concerto is presented in three movements, each featuring a repetitive almost insistent organizing element. For those more familiar with Lutosławski’s later output, the concerto represents the height of his early stylistic period drawing from influences in folklore. Though at the time of the concerto’s composition he had been developing elements of his musical language that would emerge in later works, due to post war political concerns Lutosławski could not include these techniques in his public work. Governmental pressure did not dictate Lutosławski’s early style – but political pressure did delay the public expression of his later technique. His first symphony (1941-7) was decried as “formalist” and banned in 1949, and his use of folk inspired material provided an opportunity to pursue multiple creative paths both public and private.
The concerto begins with an ominous repetitive pulse in the timpani accented by low strings and winds, and from the downbeat it was clear to the audience (or at least to me) that the evening’s stakes had been raised. The tutti following the registral and rhythmic development of the original ostinato was powerful, and along with the overlapping wind and solo string lines that follow, perhaps foreshadows characteristics of the “limited aleatorism” Lutosławski would later use in works like his Grawemeyer winning Symphony No. 3. The slow denouement of the first movement is monitored by an insistent repetition in the celeste emulating the opening F# pulse, now a full 6 octaves higher. But, the original overbearing character is completely transformed, and the unexpected harmonic resolution ending the movement was subtle enough to make me exhale involuntarily . . . or maybe I’m just a sucker for a well-executed celeste ostinato.
One of the most exciting displays of virtuosity began the second movement as the fragile but lightning quick theme was passed around the ensemble with the intensity of a reprimanding church whisper. The clarity and
stylistic integrity of the gesture as it was traded back and forth was truly impressive. The genius of this movement’s construction lies with its commitment to containing the most dramatic and exciting musical moments to the pianissimo statements of the frenetic theme that bookend the movement. The ensemble’s performance highlighting this feature of the work made these repetitive statements highly effective.
The third movement’s opening passacaglia acts as a catalyst – once again moving from low voices to high – with a final harmonic gesture in the strings aesthetically reminiscent of the 2nd movement of the Bartók. The passacaglia eventually evaporates into a blistering full throated toccata and the fragile motoric motion heard in the previous movement is now given a chance to return and assert itself more strongly. The uniformity of articulation and intent in the performers’ individual statements was staggering, allowing the mechanical momentum to begin to blur into longer lines and convincingly escalate into the work’s final chorale. Guerrero took his time in allowing the last tutti to develop, holding back the final crescendo until the dynamic weight of the orchestration had already reached critical mass – and the payoff was worth it. The power of the final chords and precision exchange between the trumpets and upper winds prefacing each punctuation had audience members leaning into every accented arrival.
The ensemble was well received by the audience, even playing two brief encores – Dvořák’s Slavonic Dance No. 8 and Johann Strauss’s Thunder and Lightning Polka. But, as I slowly walked back to my car after the two flashy encores, I was pleasantly haunted by the memory of the sensitivity of the 2nd movement of the Bartók, and the whispered intensity of Lutosławski’s Adagio religioso . . . and perhaps that is the highest compliment I can pay to the evening’s performers.
Nashville Opera
Britten’s ‘Turn of the Screw’
On January 24th-26th Nashville Opera will offer a production of Benjamin Britten’s The Turn of the Screw, a chilling ghost story based on Henry James’ novella of the same name. Premiered in 1954, it features one of Britten’s favorite narratives, corruption and innocence coupled with the conflict between good versus evil, here set within a staid domestic Essex country house.
One of the best horror operas of the genre
The opera is regarded by many as the finest of all Britten’s stage-works, with much of the music derived organically from a twelve-note tonal “screw-theme” heard near the work’s opening. From a broader perspective the work is organized into a prologue and two acts with 8 scenes apiece; it is a tautly constructed work with an
immense sense of claustrophobia and dramatic strength–it is one of the best horror operas in the genre. Richly scored for a unique chamber ensemble of piano, celesta, bells and harp as well as four strings flutes, oboe and cor anglais, the score is not only delicate but the timbre and silences require a masterful and and exacting delivery.
For this production, Nashville Opera has cast a number of interesting singers. Juilliard trained Soprano Lara Secord-Haid will play The Governess, perhaps the main protagonist, a young and intelligent but volatile woman. Her part requires a bright and agile voice and is perhaps the most demanding in terms of acting. Her opening Aria “Nearly There” demonstrates all these characteristics quite well.
Tenor Michael Anderson who we last heard in Nashville Opera’s holiday double bill, Amahl and the Night Visitors and Pepito, will play Peter Quint (and one expects he will sing the prologue), a part (one of many) that Britten wrote for his personal and professional partner Peter Pears. Pears was noted for his instrument’s reed-like timbre, which had a remarkable expressivity even if it lacked warmth and color–attributes Anderson would do well to model in his depiction of a ghost!
Another veteran of the Holiday production, mezzo-soprano Kaylee Nichols will perform the role of Mrs. Grose the housekeeper and Governess’s confidante, a role that is typically delivered in a plain, maternal way, but her reminiscences in Act One provide her with the opportunity for nuanced expression. The children, Miles (Caleb Killingsworth) and Flora (Helen Zhibing Huang) provide the fulcrum of the work’s morality. Of the two, Miles is the more important part; his possession and particularly the line “Peter Quint, you devil” at the work’s intentionally failed denouement is perhaps the most chilling moment in opera. Further, it will be quite exciting to watch Killingsworth, a Belmont senior music major deliver the line!
One of my favorite things about Nashville Opera is their alternative productions. Each year they tend to put on two major repertoire pieces in the fall and spring and complement them with one or two pieces from further afield, and performed in the alternative (but wonderful) space at the Noah Liff Opera Center. Whether it is Carly Simon’s Romulus Hunt (2014-5 season), Philip Glass’s Hydrogen Jukebox (2015-6), or Tim Cipullo’s Glory Denied (2016-7) these productions are often one of the season’s highlights. If all goes well with this production, The Turn of the Screw on January 24-26 at the Noah Liff Opera Center will join that list.
At the Schermerhorn
Salute to Vienna: A New Tradition for Music City’s New Year
On January 3rd at the Schermerhorn Symphony Hall, Nashville was treated to a glitzy, glamorous, and grand celebration of the New Year–Viennese style. With this concert, Nashville joins an eight decade tradition that began in Vienna and over the last twenty-five years has found its place in cultural centers all across North America, including New York, Boston, Chicago and Los Angeles. The evening featured Conductor/goofball Bernhard Schneider leading the Strauss Symphony of America as well as the National Ballet of Hungary, four International Champion Ballroom Dancers, Viennese soprano Jennifer Davison, and New York tenor Brian Cheney in an event that was both family friendly and fun.
As is appropriate, the program was dominated by waltzes, and polkas, wonderfully imagined by choreographers Marianna Venekei (Ballet) and Csaba László (Ballroom) in which skirts twirled and whooshed. Cheney sang in fine voice, one could tell that the numbers were set comfortably within his glowing, classic instrument and that he has sung these songs before. Indeed, on his Facebook, he estimates that in the last eight years that he has performed in these productions he has sung for around 50,000 people! Davison also sang very well, with a warmth and luxurious instrument that blended well with Cheney’s luster.
Maestro Schneider, between cheesy “Dad-jokes” led the Symphony through decent renditions of the dances; his interpretation of Josef Strauss’ Mein Lebenslauf ist Lieb und Lust was delightful and that of Johann Strauss Jr’s Leichtes Blut hellishly fast. The nostalgia in “Hör’ ich Zimbalklänge” was aching, as he invited the audience to hum along with Davison’s song. Perhaps the best part overall was the encore, begun with the Blue Danube Waltz and ended with a sing-along to Burns’ classic “Auld Lang Syne” (with the music printed at the back of the program just in case). Overall, I enjoy the New Year and I like to celebrate it, but I’m not too interested to brave the cold to see a note drop, with Salute to Vienna, the Music City has a new New Year’s tradition.
Oz Arts Presents
Local Artists in “The Longest Night”
On December 20th and 21st Oz Arts Nashville presented The Longest Night, an interdisciplinary collaboration celebrating the winter solstice, and the next installment of their season’s eight different projects spearheaded by Nashville-based artists. It was an all-inclusive celebration in song, dance, improvisation and spoken word with some of Nashville’s most creative minds.
Overall the two-act performance was organized around a narrative of birds surviving the longest night as drawn from the poetry of Wendell Berry, especially his To Know the Dark:
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.
From these lines Director Jason Shelton created an exploration of this idea that privileges the darkness as a creative force, an idea which played the ruling narrative of the production.
The evening opened with Ryoko Suzuki performing a meditative and self-reflective prelude on a harmonium
soon joined by the ensemble in a performance of Berry’s poetry. Then world jazz vocalist Marcela Pinilla came
onstage to perform “Oscuridad.” In the second act she also sang “Farolito,” (“festival light”) with a remarkable charisma that warmed the room in an extroverted performance that balanced nicely with Suziki’s introspection, particularly in the latter’s performance of the “ancient and mystical” mantra “Om Namah Shiviaya.”
Then the Portara Ensemble performed, “Kalado” a Latgallian winter solstice folksong, the first of three arrangements they would perform that evening. Of these, Patrick Dunnevant’s arrangement of Stille Nacht was my personal favorite, playing as it did to the ensemble’s
strengths in timbre and texture with a harmonic language that seemed to lie somewhere between Copland’s pandiatonicism and Hindemith’s stacked perfections. (Much of the performance is available on Portara’s new release, here)
Virtuoso bassist Victor Wooten performed a solo arrangement of “The Christmas Song” rich in extended tapping techniques and a jazz flavored romantic nostalgia and his brother Roy “Futureman” Wooten led a rhythmic but free improvisation with Jeff Coffin and Ramakrishnan Kumaran. This jazz inspired celebration continued deep into the second act with Jeff Coffin’s “As Light Through the Leaves” featuring solos by Coffin on Flute and Pat Coil on piano. Soon, too soon, the concert came to an end with the uplifting “And All the Earth Shall Sing,” during which the audience was invited onstage for a dance party.
Depicting what I believe were the birds exploring the night, the Epiphany Dance* Partners, ingeniously choreographed by Lisa Valeri Spradley, were a constant presence onstage and throughout the performance.
Their role in the production was interesting and quite autonomous; they could interpret the music, or ignore it, or just sit down and watch the performance with us. Their dance could create a simple distraction, or become quite poignant as it did during Roxanne Crew’s dance to “Oscuridad” and Allison Hardee’s dance to the Futureman’s “Improvisation.”
Across the evening, Poet Ciona Rouse’s reading (she has a marvelous voice) assisted in unifying the evening with richly-told “Narratives.” Rabbi Rami Shapiro’s Story “If Not Higher” was funny and quite intimate.
At the end, I remembered being quite excited by Director Jason Shelton imploring the audience to participate in the performance. In a country so fraught with division as ours currently is, I was excited for a concert that emphasized diversity in content and inclusivity in performance, especially with the opportunity to sing with those around me and those onstage. Unfortunately, all we could join in with were the chants and with Peter Yarrow’s festive “Light One Candle.” My only wish was that there were more opportunities for this, perhaps we might all have sung a carol or two together? In any case it was a wonderful holiday and perhaps my favorite holiday concert event of the year—I hope to see it again next year!
The Neujahrskonzert at the Schermerhorn
In 1995 Marion and Attila Glatz sought to reproduce the Neujahrskonzert in Canada and the United States. The concert is a Viennese tradition that they had grown up with in Austria and Hungary and is broadcast from the Goldener Saal (the Golden Hall) of the Musikverein in Vienna. It typically performs the works of the Strauss family—Johann Strauss I, Johann Strauss II, Josef Strauss and Eduard Strauss. Since 1985 this concert has been broadcast in the United States on the Public Broadcasting Service (PBS). However, due to the work of the Glatz’s, a similar concert is being performed at Schermerhorn Hall on January 3, 2020.
Uniquely, this concert is both local and cosmopolitan in conception, advertised as a “feast for the senses.” As the producers describe it:
“Salute to Vienna is not just a concert. Although the timeless overtures, waltzes, arias, and duets of Strauss and his contemporaries are given the spotlight, the sensory experience of the music-filled evening is enriched by visual elements, including intricate designs unique to each city hosting the concert. Based on the traditional floral design of Vienna’s long-standing Neujahrskonzert, each North American concert features elaborately constructed, one-of-a-kind floral arrangements crafted specifically for each production by local florists. These floral arrangements create a vibrant visual focal point to unify all of the elements of the production. In addition, the concert features stunning performances from internationally renowned ballroom dancers and members of highly regarded ballet companies, including the National Ballet of Hungary, Kiev-Aniko Ballet Company, and Europaballet St.Pölten. Thanks to these masterful performances, the universal language of music is punctuated by the visual language of dance, creating a veritable feast for the senses.”
With the close relationship between the Nashville Symphony and the Nashville Ballet we here in Music City are quite used to the enriching effects of interdisciplinary entertainments such as this…and what a way to ring in the New Year!
tickets available here.
the Nashville Symphony
Handel’s Messiah at the Schermerhorn
On December 19-22 the Nashville Symphony gave its annual production of Georg Frederic Handel’s Messiah at the Schermerhorn Symphony Hall, featuring soprano Mary Wilson, mezzo soprano Elizabeth Batton, tenor Garrett Sorenson, and bass Andrew Foster-Williams. This holiday tradition, which seems to extend all the way back to 1963 in Nashville when Willis Page directed it on December 15th, is proving to be one of the highlights of the holiday season in Music City.
Oddly enough, however, in 1742 when Handel wrote his masterpiece oratorio, it was not designed to be performed during the Christmas season but rather during Lent as a more restrained and religious entertainment than Handel’s secular operas which along with their competition where flooding the London market. Thus, the oratorio in general lacked the scenery and staging of traditional opera and emphasized a sacred rather than a secular topic. Handel more than made up for this in his musical setting, especially in the
recitatives, which span a continuum from the reduced “secco” instrumentation of voice and keyboard to the fully accompanied recitatives in which the vocal line is inlayed within the full orchestra’s texture. Maestro Guerrero’s handling of these recitatives was quite remarkable from the very opening number, “Comfort Ye, My People” as sung by Sorenson.
We last heard tenor Garrett Sorenson last month in the Symphony’s production of Rachmaninoff’s The Bells. With a strong and well-polished instrument, Sorenson leant a warmth to Handel’s ornamented melodic line. In “Every Valley Shall Be Exalted” the text painting came across as sincere and without contrivance, a great achievement in so well know a work as this. Similarly, Foster-Williams’ bass brought new life to his line and coupled it with a supple tone that drew on a remarkable clarity in diction, his interpretation of “The People that Walked in Darkness” was terrifying and yet expressed the inlaid hope for redemption.
Mezzo-Soprano Elizabeth Batton was refreshing in her interpretation, and her voice blended exceptionally well with Sorenson’s (Batton’s husband) in the second of the work’s two duets “O Death, Where Is Thy Sting.” Another magnificent moment was Soprano Mary Wilson’s performance in the delightful shift from secco recitative to the accompanied (“And the Angel Said unto Them” followed by “And Suddenly there Was with the Angel”) that opens the second half of Part One. She created a nuanced dramatic shift that articulated her character’s awareness behind the words she was singing as though her recognition of the “heav’nly host” emerged slowly in its presence-a moment well-articulated by Maestro Guerrero’s delicate direction.
However, the star of the performance, as it should be, was Tucker Biddlecombe’s marvelously well-prepared Nashville Symphony Chorus. Their diction, balance and intonation were remarkable, particularly in the Hallelujah anthem and fuguing chorus as well as the remarkable “Amen” chorus that ended the piece. Special mention goes to Nashville’s amazing strings led by Jun Iwasaki and the two trumpets that announce the Hallelujah chorus, they managed, with Handel’s reduced orchestra, to fill the magnificent Schemerhorn Hall with music—a great challenge with concerts such as these. In all the evening was a refreshing performance of the canon’s oldest chestnut—a marvelous holiday gift for the Music City!
On the Dramatic Stage
Studio Tenn’s New Director: Patrick Cassidy
Franklin-based Studio Tenn, has recently announced the arrival of Patrick Cassidy as Artistic Director. From the release: “Cassidy, son of Shirley Jones and the late Jack Cassidy, and brother to Shaun, Ryan and the late David Cassidy, is a legend in the performing arts community, and his incredible career spans Broadway, film and television. We are excited to welcome him to the greater Nashville area, and we hope you can join us for the press conference.” Studio Tenn, a professional regional theater company whose mission is “To create compelling musicals, plays, concerts and experiences through artful storytelling and innovative design, and to cultivate a meaningful understanding and appreciation of the artistic process in performers and audiences of all ages through education and engagement,” is celebrating it’s tenth anniversary with productions of Cinderella, Steel Magnolias, The Aretha Legacy and 9 to 5. Tickets and more information are available here.
Patrick Cassidy
the Nashville Symphony
“Neglected Jewels” and “Pristine Acoustics:” Paul Jacobs Returns to Nashville
Ahead of his visit to Nashville on November 21-23, when he will play Horatio Parker’s Concerto in E-flat Minor for Organ and Orchestra, Op. 55 in concert with the Nashville Symphony, we had the opportunity to ask virtuoso organist and Grammy winner Paul Jacobs about the piece, performing at the Schermerhorn with the Nashville Symphony and about his instrument.
MCR: We are quite excited for you to come visit Music City to play with the Nashville Symphony! Could you tell us something about how the project got started?
PJ: It’s been a tremendous pleasure to have worked with Giancarlo Guerrero on several occasions, most recently with the Cleveland Orchestra, when he suggested it might be exciting to record a program of American organ concerti in Nashville. Given the abundance of repertoire for organ and orchestra (much more than people realize), it wasn’t difficult to identify some marvelous works that deserve to be heard by audiences and recorded for posterity.
MCR: What can you tell us about Horatio Parker’s Organ Concerto? Are there highlights in particular that we should listen for?
PJ: Horatio Parker’s organ concerto is a neglected jewel, a work of striking craftsmanship and deep feeling. Parker was an important American composer of the late-19th century, part of a group known as the “Second New England School”, whose music was strongly influenced by the German tradition. Warmly Romantic in style, this concerto tears at one’s heartstrings. A soaring melody is heard in the opening bars of the music, carrying the listener into an alluring yet wistful landscape. The first movement concludes with a dialogue among organ, violin, horn, and harp–pure gold. The Scherzo-like second movement provides a touch of effervescence, levity, and wit. The full glory of the organist is made manifest in the final movement, replete with virtuosic pedal writing and a dramatic cadenza. It’s thrilling to play, believe me!
MCR: You have performed in Nashville before, indeed in 2017 your world premiere of the revised version of Michael Daugherty’s Once Upon a Castle for Organ as performed with the Nashville Symphony and Maestro Guerrero (on Naxos) won a Grammy Award. What is it like to play with Guerrero, the Nashville Symphony and on our Martin Foundation Concert Organ?
PJ: I’ve only the highest admiration for Giancarlo Guerrero, a consummate artist. He leaves no stones unturned, and his intelligence and passion are inspiring, on the podium and off. It’s an honor to join him and the Nashville Symphony–a stellar orchestra in every respect. Given all the musicians involved, the Schermerhorn’s pristine acoustics and world-class pipe organ–all the stars should be in alignment for this special project!
MCR: As chair of Juilliard’s organ department, a touring virtuoso, and champion of not only the canonical repertoire but also of contemporary music for the instrument–solo and collaborative–what would you say is the state of the organ in the classical world?
PJ: Though the organ has been on the periphery of classical music for quite some time, I’ve dedicated my life to doing all that I can to bridge this gap. This is due to a host of complex reasons that could fill a book (which I might write one day), but suffice to say the glory of the instrument continues to shine brightly through performances in every corner of the world, with audiences eager to listen. Once a New York Times critic told me that, in his experience, the two most devoted groups of music lovers where opera buffs and organ fans. Many in the classical music establishment seem unaware of the widespread devotion and support the King of Instruments actually has.
MCR: What other instruments do you play? Do they inform your interpretations at the organ?
PJ: The piano was my first instrument, which I began studying seriously at an early age and continue to play almost daily, though not in public. As an undergraduate student, I frequently played harpsichord, primarily for the opportunity to play chamber music. Making music with others has always been important to me–something not often expected of organists. And, yes, playing one keyboard instrument inevitably informs (and sometimes transforms) another, expanding one’s concept of musical expression.
MCR: Your marathon performances of the complete organ works of J.S. Bach and Olivier Messiaen have given you a legendary status in the classical music world. You also made history by becoming the first organist to receive a Grammy Award for a solo recording of Messiaen’s Livre du Saint Sacrement. Personally, do you have a favorite performance of your own?
PJ: This may be impossible to answer, given the ephemeral nature of live performance. But there are also too many happy experiences to recall, fortunately! I will say that some of the most meaningful encounters I’ve had have been with audiences in smaller communities and in more intimate settings. People crave beauty, wherever in the world they happen to live.
MCR: After Nashville and this recording, what’s next?
In addition to upcoming solo recitals, later this season I’ll be joining Giancarlo in Europe for performances of a concerto by the late Stephen Paulus. Also, the Daugherty that we recorded in Nashville I’ll be playing with the Philadelphia Orchestra in February (having just performed it with the Kansas City Symphony last month). Then I’ll be joining the Utah Symphony for a Handel organ concerto and Samuel Barber’s Toccata Festiva, which I recorded last season with the Lucerne Symphony in Switzerland. Finally, I’m anticipating the release of a recording made with the Cleveland Orchestra of a riveting organ concerto, Okeanos, by contemporary Austrian composer Bernd Richard Deutsch.
the Nashville Symphony
An Artist’s Dream at the Schermerhorn
On the weekend of November 7-9 the Nashville Symphony produced a concert that featured Hector Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique (Op. 14), Felix Mendelssohn’s Concerto No. 1 in G Minor for Piano and Orchestra (Op. 25) with soloist Stephen Hough and Andrew Norman’s Unstuck, all conducted by visiting Maestro Thierry Fischer. The evening was somewhat eclectic but featured fantastic performances.
Since his arrival on the scene, Los Angeles based composer Andrew Norman has made some waves in the classic world, qualifying as finalist for a Pulitzer Prize twice (2012 and 2019) and with prestigious premieres including one of his children’s opera A Trip to the Moon by the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Unstuck was written on a commission from the Orpheum Foundation for the Advancement of Young Soloists and received its premiere in Zurich in 2008. In the program Norman described the way he derived the movement’s form from an inspiration he took from Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five:
For a long time this piece languished on my desk, a mess of musical fragments that refused to cohere […but] I realized that my musical materials lent themselves to a narrative arc that, like Vonnegut’s character, comes ‘unstuck’ in time. Bits and pieces of the beginning, middle and end of the music crop up in the wrong places like the flashbacks and flashforwards that define the structure and style of Slaughterhouse-Five.
The difficulty with Norman’s work is that it lacks the unifying elements that Vonnegut employs to maintain connection in the narrative organization (despite the surface incoherence); there is no foreshadowing, resolving reprises, thematic connections, or derived culminations to balance the apparent lack of formal integration. However, despite the formal challenges, some of those “bits and pieces” are really quite beautiful. The rhythmic complexity of the initial fast section was quite intricate, and the Webernian pointillism at some of the internal moments was equally remarkable, reducing the musical fabric to a kind of “tone color melody” or klangfarbenmelodie. At another moment, when the cellos are heard apart with a simple ascending gesture (played wonderfully by Kevin Bate and Xiao-Fan Zhang), the intimacy and directness was breathtaking. While this may not have been my favorite piece, I am enthusiastic to hear other works by Norman.
Felix Mendelssohn wrote his First Piano Concerto when he was in his early thirties and during a trip to Rome in 1831. It is a rather innovative work with the piano dominating from the very beginning and the first and second
movements are connected by a fanfare in the horns and trumpets, sounding in the Romantic distance before the piano transitions to the second movement. It is in this movement that Hough really shined. A polymath with unassailable technique, Hough’s interpretation brought the room into a languid reverie only to be rudely awoken by the fanfare (much closer now) that announced the third movement.
Hough tackled the third movement’s fast and joyous themes with abandon and Fischer kept the smaller orchestra up with him brilliantly. It brought to mind Hector Berlioz’s description of what happened to a piano after it had played this movement once too many times and its builder, M. Erard, attempts to repair it:
…try as he [Erard] will, the piano, which is out of its mind, has no intention of paying him any heed either. He sends for holy water and sprinkles the keyboard with it, but in vain—proof that it wasn’t witchcraft but merely the natural result of thirty performances of one concerto. They take the keyboard out of the instrument—the keys are still moving up and down by themselves—and they throw it into the middle of the courtyard next to the warehouse. There, M. Erard, now in a fury, has it chopped up with an axe. You think that did it? It made matters worse. Each piece danced, jumped, frisked about separately—on the pavement, between our legs, against the wall, in all directions, until the warehouse locksmith picked up this bedeviled mechanism in one armful and flung it into the fire of his forge, finally putting an end to it…
It was the image of the piano dancing, jumping, frisking about that Hough’s delightful performance brought to mind. I only wish that he’d performed an encore.
After intermission, the stage of the Schermerhorn was made full with Berlioz’s augmented orchestra, and extended offstage with special bronze church bells brought in from the Dallas Symphony. It was in Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique that Fischer left a significant interpretive footprint. Written and premiered in 1830, Berlioz’s innovative work is program symphony that relays an external narrative which, in Berlioz’s words, “…develop[s] various episodes in the life of an artist, in so far as they lend themselves to musical treatment.” Further, Berlioz unified the five movements of the piece with a recurring theme called an idée fixe which represents the artist’s love for a woman, “By a strange anomaly, the beloved image never presents itself to the artist’s mind without being associated with a musical idea, in which he recognizes a certain quality of passion, but endowed with the nobility and shyness which he credits to the object of his love.”
Thus the work becomes an essay in Berlioz’s unique genius for orchestration and thematic transformation—we hear the theme in the first movement, encounter her again at a waltz, in the country, and then in an opioid-induced dream in the last two movements.
Overall, it seems that Maestro Fischer was, quite appropriately, looking to emphasize the nostalgic, dreamy and distantly Romantic aspects of Berlioz’s work. The harp glissandos in the second movement’s waltz and the English horn and oboe duet in the third movement pastoral were notably exquisite for the nostalgic legato in their parts—special mention here goes to Licia Jaskunas (harp), Roger Wiesmeyer (English Horn) and Titus Underwood (oboe). Fischer also brought a similar interpretation to the Fourth Movement’s “March to the Scaffold.” Typically, the movement is emphatically staccato in an effort to maximize the terror. However, Fischer stuck to the program which describes the artist in a lucid, dream-like state :
Convinced that his love is spurned, the artist poisons himself with opium. The dose of narcotic, while too weak to cause his death, plunges him into a heavy sleep accompanied by the strangest of visions. He dreams that he has killed his beloved, that he is condemned, led to the scaffold and is witnessing his own execution. The procession advances to the sound of a march that is sometimes sombre and wild, and sometimes brilliant and solemn, in which a dull sound of heavy footsteps follows without transition the loudest outbursts. At the end of the march, the first four bars of the idée fixe reappear like a final thought of love interrupted by the fatal blow.
In this way the events of the last two movements are experienced from within a “heavy sleep” and under Fischer’s baton it was hazy like a dream…or rather a nightmare. Importantly, the effect didn’t undermine the terror so much as distance it almost as an out-of-body experience. The effect was further heightened in the final movement when the idée fixe appeared at the witch’s dark prayer meeting cackling and shrieking through Katherine Kohler’s E-flat Clarinet, but yet enmeshed within that dream-like state.
It was wonderful to hear this chestnut of the repertoire interpreted in a new way, and caused me to somewhat lament the homogeneity of interpretations that one often hears from the conductor’s podium –Fischer took a chance in Nashville and we were rewarded.
the Nashville Symphony presents
the Subtle Similarities of Brahms, Dvořák, Adams and Ives
On the rainy weekend of October 25th, the Nashville Symphony performed a program that included works by Antonin Dvořák, Johannes Brahms, John Adams, and Charles Ives. The program reflected contemporaries and similarities between the two sets of composers: Dvořák and Brahms were true contemporaries, and Adams was highly influenced by the works of Charles Ives. Dvořák’s piece opened the show, a short five-minute orchestral work that expands upon the enticing style of Slovanic folk dance music. The set of eight dances is what brought international attention to Dvořák’s work, as he drew inspiration from the audience’s positive reaction to Brahms’s earlier Hungarian dances.
After a riveting introduction of Dvořák’s slovanic dance op. 46, no.1, the audience was on the edge of their seats as soloist Karen Gomyo took the stage for Brahms’s Voilin Concerto. Gomyo’s confident stage presence and flowing dress of sparkling cobalt blue commanded the audience as she took center stage, but did not distract from her effortless performance of the nearly forty-minute piece. The orchestra introduces the dramatic and triumphant opening, as Gomyo stood poised and ready to make her entrance. As dramatic and emotionally heightened as the first movement is, Gomyo’s intensity throughout each harmonic and dynamic shift of the piece was controlled and intentional. She moved and breathed with her instrument, a “Stradivarius violin of 1703 that was bought for her exclusive use by a private sponsor.” Her ability to exploit the contrasting themes of lyrical sorrow and strong emphatic phrases that develop through the first movement was captivating.
The concerto was written for Joseph Joachim, a virtuosic violinist in the late 1800s. Brahms capitalizes on the instruments higher register, as well as the instrument’s dramatic interjections after heightened drama by the orchestra. Brahms chose not to write a cadenza for the soloist, leaving it to Joachim – whose cadenza remains the most frequently performed. Gomyo’s cadenza brought the first movement to the final recurrences of the theme before its end. It was emotionally driven and showcased her amazing ability to soar and shimmer in the violin’s higher register and shift quickly into emphatic double-stops and runs of unending 16th-note phrases.
The second movement offered a strong contrast to the demands of the first; the soloist must capitalize on Brahm’s use of legato lyrical phrasing that is integrated flawlessly between the soloist and the orchestra. The two seemed to weave together, elaborating on where the other had just left off. Gomyo’s expressiveness in this rather simple piece was exquisite, and highly reflective of the sorrowful phrases that are written in.
As a strong contrast to the second movement, Gomyo entered strongly into a vigorous third movement that Brahms based on Joachim’s Hungarian roots. With highly syncopated phrases and metric dissonance, the third movement seems the most difficult to coordinate between an orchestra and soloist. With the confidence and effortlessness between Gomyo and conductor Giancarlo Guerrero, there was nothing for the audience to worry about. The coordination was playful, enjoyable for the audience, and brought the youthful energy that was intended for this final movement.
Even after performing this emotionally driven and intense concerto, Karen Gomyo sat in the audience behind me to watch the second half of the program, which was a solid contrast to her own. As the Brahms piece relied heavily on the string section, so did the Ives and Adams pieces use the brass section. The ethereal opening section of My Father Knew Charles Ives was a shift away from the upbeat closing movement that was heard before intermission. The piece is an homage to both Charles Ives and Adams’s father, both whom he admired. Adams was strongly influenced by Ives’ experimentation of polyphony, rhythm, and orchestral coloration. The piece shifts between orchestral unity and walls of sound where it seems like each individual instrument is playing its own theme. Guerroro’s careful consideration to the subtle nuances of each of these sections is what gives the piece complexity and character. The oboe was especially noteworthy, and Adams composes a long-winded solo melody in the second movement as the orchestra echoes.
Similarly to the Adam’s work, Three Places in New England by Charles Ives reflects events and places from the composer’s life. The opening theme is solemn and ominous, as well as the third and closing theme. Ives finds certain areas of the piece to insert familiar tunes of American music, which is highly characteristic of him. This program was carefully put together to truly showcase how each composer was influenced by the other. It was a subtle change between Ives and Adams, and the pieces seemed to mirror each other in theme, style, and orchestral placement. While Ives was influenced by places in his life, Adams was inspired by Ives himself, and by his own life. These autobiographical compositions could have easily been switched in the program to show the Ives composition in the early 1900s evolving into the Adams composition a decade later.
The gloomy Friday night was soon forgotten as soon as I stepped foot into the Schermerhorn and witnessed the impeccable coordination of Karen Gomyo and the Nashville Symphony. The program itself tells a story of the evolution of music from the mid-1800s into the present day. At first glance, these pieces seemed scattered, but the subtle similarities of each piece was expertly arranged and executed in this performance. The way music reflects the lives of those it is written by and can be perceived just as sentimentally by an audience is what makes these performances so special.
